


Sacrifice

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Badwrong, Consent Issues, Drama, Episode Related, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, Het, Loss of Virginity, MILFs, Porn, Sex Magic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Darach traps Stiles and Melissa in the Nemeton, with Stiles being the virgin and Melissa being the guardian. The only way for them to escape is for Stiles to lose his virginity, and fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aquamarinespinnerlover](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aquamarinespinnerlover).



* * *

 

The trouble is, of course, that Stiles has been like a son to her. She still remembers taking him and Scott out for trick-or-treating when they were young. Younger. God, this is - she can't -

"You don't have to do this," says Stiles, desperately. He's red in the face and his palms are sweating where they're clasping Melissa's hands, as if to keep them away from him. It makes Melissa feel like an abuser of some sort, even though she hasn't done anything yet. She doesn't _want_ to do anything, ever, but it's a matter of life and death. If it had been just her in here, it would've been different, but she can't let Stiles die along with her.

"Are you sure?" she asks. The Darach's hideous face flashes through her mind, and it's all she can do not to shake apart. She can't let herself be afraid, not now. She's a nurse. She's handled near-death scenarios before. The only difference is that this time, it's her own death she's trying to prevent. Hers, and Stiles's. "The Darach could be back any minute. And you just said the rune keeping us in is for virgins and guardians."

"Yes, I think we've established I'm a virgin," Stiles mutters, pulling away from Melissa and stepping back until he's at the edge of the runic circle. "And yes, I could get out of here if I wasn't a virgin anymore, but seriously, Mrs. McCall, this is - it's _insane_. We can't do this."

"We have to."

"But neither of us wants to. It's... it's sick."

Melissa decides to try another tack. Stiles has a self-sacrificial streak a mile wide, and if he thinks he can save someone else's life, he'll be much more willing to go along with things. "Once you're outside, you can destroy the circle and let me out, too. Aren't two lives worth... worth a bit of discomfort?"

"A _bit_ of discomfort? You're Scott's mom! Oh, god. Scott will kill me."

"But at least the Darach won't."

Stiles runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck. I - sorry, Mrs. McCall."

"I'm okay with you swearing in front of me, Stiles," Melissa says, dryly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, "given the context."

"The context is ridiculous." Stiles swallows. "Mrs. McCall - "

"Melissa."

Stiles's eyes are wide. "Oh, no. No. I'm not calling you that. You're my best friend's mom, and you're - well, you've always been pretty, but - "

Melissa steps forward, ignoring Stiles's flinch, and reaches for his face. Tips it down a little. And kisses Stiles softly, chastely, as tenderly as she can. "Stiles, the last thing I need is for you to die here. You're only - " _sixteen_ , she almost says, but stops herself from saying it, because saying it out loud will make it even more real, that she's about to do this to a _boy_ , a boy her son's age. She can't think about it. Thinking about it will break her. "You've got a long life ahead of you. And what would Scott do without you?"

"Good point," says Stiles, faintly, looking at her mouth like he's never seen it before. "Scott wouldn't last a day without me."

"Exactly. So let me do this. You don't have to do anything, Stiles. Just stand there and - "

" - think of England?" A hysterical laugh escapes Stiles. "Mrs. McCall, I'm fairly sure this experience will leave me scarred for life."

"But you'll _have_ a life."

"Jesus. You're. You're really going to do this."

"Close your eyes. Imagine... whoever it is you'd like to imagine. Lydia, maybe?"

Stiles makes a choked noise. Closes his eyes. And clenches his hands into fists at his sides. "Do it," he whispers. "Let's get this over with. Since I'm a virgin, it shouldn't take too long. Small mercies, I guess."

Melissa feels a wrench of maternal protectiveness, utterly misplaced, because what she's going to do is the opposite of protecting Stiles. Isn't it? "Hush. No talking, no thinking. Just focus on my touch."

Stiles falls silent. It's strange, to have _Stiles_ of all people quiet and wordless - defenseless - but Melissa uses that silence to kiss Stiles again, brushing her mouth back and forth across his, not going for anything deeper, because she senses that it'll be too much. Too soon. At last, Stiles's tense posture relaxes, and he sighs, his eyelashes fluttering.

Melissa decides to pretend it's a grown man she's doing this to - not that she's had the opportunity to do anything like this for far too long - but she won't stop trembling at this rate, and she won't be able to get Stiles off if he picks up on how much she doesn't want to do this, and how terrified she is that the Darach will return and slaughter them both.

Steadying herself, she reaches down to brush her fingers over Stiles's crotch, lightly and then firmly, the denim of his jeans worn and cool. Stiles's breathing speeds up, his chest rising and falling ever more quickly. He keeps to his promise of staying silent, however, and soon enough he's getting hard.

Melissa can't be relieved that it's working, that Stiles might actually survive - it isn't over yet, after all. She has to make Stiles come. So she slides down the zipper, making them both jump at the surprisingly loud sound of it, and then her hand's in there, pulling Stiles out, and Stiles makes this low, broken sound that shocks Melissa to her core.

Suddenly, she's acutely aware of what she's doing, and to whom. The reality of it cuts through her like something jagged, making her gasp. Stiles sways forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder, and his hips twitch as a whine escapes him. He's panting now, and Melissa begins to stroke him as if on autopilot, her mind refusing to process what's happening, refusing to think about anything but sheer sensation.

Stiles is getting wetter, leaking into her grasp, making the slip-slide of every stroke faster, smoother. He's groaning as if he's in pain, and Melissa can't see his face because he's still hiding it against her shoulder. Maybe it's better that she can't see what Stiles looks like when he's going to come. Maybe it's better that - that -

"It's okay," Melissa whispers, when Stiles's moans turn into sobs. "It's okay." It _isn't_ , it'll never be, and Stiles shudders as if he knows that, his entire body curving toward Melissa, his hands coming up to grip her waist as he thrusts into her grip.

When he comes, Melissa feels the splash of heat in her palm, and then Stiles is saying, "Sorry, sorry," over and over again, like this is _his_ fault.

"Shh," Melissa says, soothing him with kisses until he stops quivering and lurches away from her. His face is even ruddier than before, and he won't meet her eyes. He fumbles his zipper closed after tucking himself in, and then he turns around, his back to her, as if he can't bear to face her. It makes something in Melissa shatter, slowly, to think that this is how it might be between them for years. Forever. That there won't be any innocence to her interactions with him, not anymore - that Stiles will probably avoid sleepovers with Scott, just to avoid meeting her. And what will Scott think of it? Will he figure it out? Not if they don't tell him, surely, not if... No. He won't find out. This will remain a rotting, unseen wound, guilt eating away at Melissa from within.

Stiles inches across the outer circumference of the rune, and the fact that he's able to step over it should be worth a moment of shared exultation, but instead Stiles just crouches outside of it and erases the remainder of the circle - the half of it intended for guardians - with the too-long sleeve of his plaid shirt. 

"You should be able to step out, now," he says, still not looking at her. "I'll just, um, go and get the Jeep started. You can..." He makes a vague flapping motion at her. "You can follow me when you're ready."

It's not _her_ that isn't ready. "Stiles - "

"Gotta go," he says, and then he's climbing out of the cellar they've been trapped in.

Melissa stares after him, wipes her hand on a rag she finds in a corner of the room, and follows him up.

 

* * *

**fin.**


End file.
